


it's not a punchline if you see it coming

by jonathans



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Comedy, Grounder AU, M/M, Murphamy Week, Romantic Comedy, background clexa not worth tagging, background roan judging everyone, set in an alternate 3x04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:03:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7504135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jonathans/pseuds/jonathans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bellamy is lost in Polis, Murphy is a mess, Roan is in jail, and Clarke and Lexa don't have time for those idiots. Bellamy vows to make a good decision one day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	it's not a punchline if you see it coming

**Author's Note:**

> murphamy week 2016, day 2: grounder au
> 
> grounder!murphy & roan are bffs. bellamy is not happy to meet them

If Bellamy was allowed to punch the one at fault whenever things went to shit, he—well, he would've punched a lot of grounders up until now. And himself, but that's beside the point.

Things haven't been going according to plan lately, to say the least. It's the usual.

A grounder he trusted betrayed him, he was lured into a trap, he made a fool of himself, Mt Weather kind of exploded and people died and— he should be more upset about Gina, but he's... not feeling a whole lot, except mild annoyance. Maybe he snapped. Maybe this is his inner Clarke. Inner Clarke is super helpful, what with the complete lack of human emotions.

To top it off, real Clarke refused to leave Polis. To keep an eye on Lexa. What she meant was, _in the bedroom_. Clarke's bedroom. Lexa's. Theirs? A different one each day? Anyway. It didn't sound reassuring, and someone should _actually_ keep an eye on Lexa while Clarke has her eyes elsewhere.

Didn't say that to Lexa's face, though.

A lot of Trigedasleng later, Bellamy found himself in his room for the night, without his guns but guards at his door. For his own safety. Comforting to see that Polis' security system is in place to protect its residents from criminals and intruders. Ha.

Bellamy totally didn't wonder how high up he was and what would happen if he jumped out his window, judged for all he's ever done by the gentle light of approximately 261 candles.

He's had a shit day.

(Seriously, is that a grounder thing, a Lexa thing, or is it supposed to be mood lighting? He imagined they'd use big, atmospheric torches they could also intimidate or burn you with if necessary. Seems more efficient.)

The guards were hard to talk to, but he plea— _demanded_ to go off on his own. They didn't like it, and probably went to report to their _Heda_ that one asshole Sky Crew guy is running free in Polis, terrorizing the sick and elderly. Lexa hopefully has better things to do than worry about him, though—like Clarke. If not, well, they'll have to find him first. And good luck with that, because Bellamy doesn't know where he went either.

So now he's walking around one of the 176 floors, he's hungry, and every room he's ever been in has 261 candles. Sometimes nothing else. Can it get worse?

Ha.

Because life loves him, and is fair, the doors at the far end of the hall open for—of all people left on this honestly only mediocre planet—that one guy who stabbed him in the leg a week ago. To mix the bad news up a bit.

Bellamy remembers the mean look, and that he's the Ice Nation guy who took Clarke to Lexa. Who he actually _is_ , to be escorted by way too many guards when already in chains, is a question Bellamy doesn't need answered.

Mean Guy strides down the hallway like he's important, squared broad shoulders and raised chin. Bellamy really could've gone without this. _Him_.

Next to _him_ though, one step behind, is a tiny guy.

Bellamy stares at Tiny Guy only partly because he's tiny, but also because there's something about his face that's... weird. In a good way, maybe. It's hard to tell with the distance and when you're not looking properly, because wow, he's got eyes. Right, sure, of course he's got eyes, but they're special eyes. They're nice, and big, and blueish? Grayish? Maybe a really pretty stormy gray. Is that eye makeup, or is he extremely tired? Bellamy can relate to that. Cloudyeyes looks as excited to be here as him. With any luck, he'll get the VIP out of Bellamy's face before it receives a new bruise. Please.

They stop right in front of Bellamy, and then Mean Scowl and Tired Scowl pull off a perfectly synchronized, unimpressed once-over. See, this is why he doesn't hang out with grounders much. He isn't supposed to be here in the first place and whoever trusted him as a leader figure was an idiot and maybe he shouldn't have shot Jaha? Is it too late to change his nature and make better life choices from now on? Some things make you wonder.

Up close, the duo looks weirdly similar, save the age gap. Remarkable jawline, pronounced cheek bones and nose, judgemental eyes, hair pulled back to reveal Ice Nation scars on the sides of the face. The  _certified intimidating_ look is rounded off by matching leather armor _and_ disapproving expressions today. Real cute, these Ice Brothers.

And, fine, _tiny_  Little Brother might be around Bellamy's size, realistically, but nobody's gonna make much of an impression next to Muscleman. He looks skinny and pale in comparison, kind of sickly—is he eating properly?—so, eh, a servant? Who is not in chains.

The Leg Stabber seems in the mood for taunting.

"I didn't think Skaikru would stay."

Why does Clarke not count?

"It's just me. Got a problem?"

Perhaps it's not the smartest move to tell a stabby guy who hates your guts that there would be no witnesses to a potential murder and disposal of your body parts. And then provoke him. Those chains can't be forever.

Important to remember in case of a second chance.

Murderguy makes a non-committal sound, throwing a glance at Murderassistant. They must have the most fun telling Murderstories at Murderparties, hanging out with their Murderfriends. It has to be an Ass Nation thing.

Bellamy would enjoy telling stories at parties with his friends, too. Like the one about how he _maybe survived this_. Man, that'd be nice.

Not that any of the Polis guards would help with that.

Not provoking the Down For Murder Duo might.

"You always chasing after Wanheda? Doesn't look like she wants Skaikru's protection to me."

Background Grump turns to Foreground Jerk at that, but Bellamy's not paying attention—

His hand is on the guy's collar before he realizes why or—

Pain jolts through his head and back, there's pressure on his hips and wrist, then cold metal to his throat.

When his brain catches up to the situation his body's in, what he sees is—cloudy skies. Eyes. _Those_ eyes. Is that heaven? In his eyes.

"Touch him again and I'll end you."

What are the chances of someone knocking the air out of you literally _and_ figuratively, at the same time, while also threatening your life?

He'd mark this day in his calendar, if he had one.

Bodyguard is straddling him, knife at his throat, and—he looks- nice. Sounds nice, too. Doing that. If Bellamy were to disregard the circumstances.

Eh, even if not.

His features look sharpened by anger, framed by strands of his hair coming loose, tickling Bellamy's cheeks. And, sure, he snarled, but attractively so. He looks murderous, but _attractively_ so. The prettiest trained killer in Polis. Maybe on earth.

Bellamy doesn't mind his position as much as he should, save for the knife. Knife can go, Knife Wielder can stay.

Why is he allowed a knife?

And no guard interferes.

"Murphy."

Bellamy only guesses it's a name, but Snarling Beauty reacts. By rolling his eyes and tilting his head away from the gruff voice in distaste. Man, that's cute. The anger drops from his pretty face, and he concedes with a brief, tight-lipped smile.

"—In a non-lethal way."

Non-lethal, sure, good enough. His tiny, sarcastic expressions are adorable. Nice mouth in general. Fascinating voice. Perfect English. Would he repeat that if Bellamy asked?

Not being allowed to kill seems to be disappointing, but that looks good on him, too. Bellamy can disappoint him a lot more.

Murphy? fixes Bellamy with his eyes again, but Bellamy is too slow to move his own up from those nice lips. They're really, _really_ nice.

Their owner doesn't seem to mind. He looks surprised for a second, but then just stares at Bellamy with curious, heavenly eyes that _maybe_ flicker down to Bellamy's lips once, too. Which, wow, sparks a weird feeling somewhere down in... his chest, or... stomach, or—uh, right, Murphy is currently still straddling him in public, so maybe—

"Bellamy? Hey!"

Bellamy recognizes Clarke's alarmed voice coming from—somewhere off to the side, but Murphy doesn't look away.

Bellamy doesn't want to, either, but does; he raises his free hand to motion Clarke to stop.

"No, it's fine, it- was my bad."

He feels an increasing distance between himself and the pretty guy straddling him, and then finally the knife is gone, and then the weight. Murphy gets up in one swift motion, eyes not leaving Bellamy's once. His hair sways with his movement, now messy. It looks even better like this. And soft. That needs to be verified.

He extends a hand, and Bellamy stares at it before daring to take it. What would happen if he pulled him back down? Probably not a whole lot apart from, oh, just Bellamy's death.

Focusing on Clarke should be a good idea. That only sometimes leads to pain.

Clarke looks from the Scary Bystander to Murphy—here, she glares—to him, and then scans him for... external wounds? Good idea.

She sounds like he's never had one of those.

"... Making friends?"

His eyes are halfway up Murphy's body. Bad, no, down.

"I'm doing my best."

Of course she caught that, so now Clarke's glaring at Murphy like—well, Murphy did push him down, kind of, but. She even wrinkles her nose. Uh, that's personal.

Broadshoulder raises an eyebrow at Murphy. "Again?"

Murphy raises his chin and doesn't just hold Clarke's glare, but actually sneers at her.

"It was just a friendly conversation."

Before Clarke can get even one angry word out, Braidhair turns towards her, slightly shifting his body in front of Murphy.

"He won't do anything. He has no free will."

Is he—is he sure about that? Because Bellamy _just_ had a knife to his throat.

Bellamy would assume it's a joke, but he doesn't look like a funny guy, and Murphy is pouting. And still glaring at Clarke.

Clarke is not pleased, which she rarely is, if ever, and motions to leave.

She makes a show of whispering to Bellamy without lowering her voice.

"Don't make friends."

Right. Of course. Good idea.

It takes Bellamy too long to realize he should use the chance to follow Clarke far, far away from those two. He meets Murphy's eyes before hurrying to safety.

He hears indistinct hissing behind him, and turns back to see Murphy roughly shove at Companion Musclewall. It doesn't do much, but the thought is what counts.

Screw good ideas.

They should be friends and shove Murderhunk into walls together.

 

***

 

He survived an encounter with Suspected Serial Killer and his loyal Body Disposer, somehow found his way to where there's food so he won't starve, and is about to set up a plan to befriend / continue to be spared by the handsome Murder Accomplice. Bellamy's had one (1) successful evening.

That is, except the food situation. Turns out, he doesn't know what anything is, and whatever _looks_ vaguely familiar has a color he's sure it shouldn't have. Didn't have, once. Nobody seems to mind.

He's seated at a table full of cooked? grilled? animal parts, or their innards, or—berries and nuts. Which, no, bad memories.

He'll starve and never again make terrible decisions and terrible new friends.

It's roughly what Clarke told him to do. She'll be proud.

Bellamy stiffens when someone lightly brushes against his back, and instead of passing by, they—oh, man. Either this saves him from starvation, or means the most uncomfortable dinner talk ever. Followed by death.

He can't help but stare as Murphy sits down next to him, placing an empty tray on the table. The guy has the gall to look nonchalant.

He cocks an eyebrow at Bellamy, reaching for the nearest plate. He turns what once was a small animal around by a stick through its midst, looking it over.

"Best rat I've ever had."

Bellamy stares, because—many reasons. Murphy sat down next to him like they didn't have a weird Thing a while back on some hallway floor; Murphy is now seemingly initiating a civil conversation that is not about his impending death; Murphy looks really good with his hair still loosened from before; Murphy is trying to be nice? by recommending him a tasty... rat? but his voice was so flat and apathetic, Bellamy doesn't know what to make of it—

"That- was a joke."

Oh.

Murphy does that strained smile to himself again, putting the rat down on an empty plate on the tray.

Oh no that's cute.

But, also, what the hell?

Bellamy—belatedly—snorts. Is he allowed to do that? Display positive emotions here?

"I didn't know you—grounders made jokes."

Murphy doesn't look up, but makes a dismissive noise in the back of his throat.

"Is the one 'grounder' you know maybe our Stoneface Lexa?"

So Lexa is known for not having much sense of humor, huh. He assumed she simply didn't like Sky Crew. Or him personally. Mostly him personally.

"...And Indra."

Murphy starts picking out dishes, carefully looking everything over, then putting a fair amount on the tray.

"Yeah, see. Missing out on me."

He falters, half-empty bowl of earthen-colored fruit in hand. He sets it back down closer to Bellamy, next to the other plates he took from.

"My—jokes."

This is all kinds of endearing and awkward, all at the same time—at least Bellamy's not the only one feeling it. That makes it all a bit less embarrassing.

"Seems I am."

This is not what Clarke would deem a good idea, but it's kind of nice for once. Dare he hope for something nice? The universe kind of owes him.

Murphy continues to fill the tray, enough for three, leaving what he chooses on Bellamy's side. He looks at ease, and not as scary anymore, and sometimes he glances up through his lashes and—damn. Bellamy decided to be friends, on the basis of—what, even? He still has time to figure it out. Point is: this is a chance to talk to the guy, especially since stuck-up Ice Cube Senior is not in sight. Bellamy didn't consider how hard talking to a very pretty, very deadly grounder would be in reality.

If Murphy is always up for small talk and joking when by himself, Bellamy might have to make arrangements to let Big Buzzkill disappear forever.

Wherever he may be right now, he doesn't need to come back.

"Big guy didn't look like he's into comedy, either, though."

Bellamy cautiously picks something off one of the plates, willing to at least try what Murphy approved for Absentee Prisoner. Wouldn't poison _him_ , after all.

It tastes... interesting.

"What, Roan? His sense of humor is brilliant."

"...Really."

Roan! A name! But also: bullshit, because Murphy's got that attractive sarcastic tone in his voice. He's always got an attractive something in everything. Would he agree to tell his murderstories for the fun of it? Great idea for later.

Then Bellamy could show off his badly-timed PTSD-induced humor and sweep him off his feet. Something like that.

Now that he's got Murphy's and Roan's names, he needs to figure something else out. Or die trying. Preferrably not die trying.

"So- you're his—" Would Murphy be offended and pull a knife on him again for calling him a servant? "—bodyguard...?"

Murphy doesn't pull out any hidden blades, and doesn't even punch him. He rolls his eyes, but the corners of his perfect mouth curl upward in a fond smile. Beauty that can't possibly be from this below-average world.

"Other way round."

Bellamy doesn't pretend to get that. Murphy gets up.

Wait.

He takes the full tray with both hands, obviously not intending to have an awkward, subtextually romantic dinner for two. That's—fine.

Bellamy watches him, brows furrowed, and Murphy even explains himself when he doesn't need to. Maybe he's actually a good kid, besides the killing and murder and taking of life.

"Uh, this is just—he's- back in the cell again, so..."

_Again._

"What did he do the first time?"

"Nothing."

The answer is immediate, and not satisfactory. Clearly, someone tried to enforce justice before and _Roan_  won't outrun his crimes. Whatever they are. There must be many.

Bellamy scrunches his brows up more and maybe his whole face too and Murphy chuckles, and, ah, that. That's a gift to mankind.

" _That_  time."

 

***

 

The next day, Bellamy annoys Clarke. He does that sometimes, but this time, it's for her own good. Or Bellamy's, doesn't matter, it's important.

Lexa gets annoyed, too.

In the end, he dutifully stands guard behind Clarke, who gets to sit in an uncomfortable looking chair specifically for ambassadors, or... whoever... when the Ice Queen is brought in. Funny story, that.

Murphy stands behind a still chained Roan; he glances over at Bellamy now and then, and glares daggers at the queen the rest of the time. Roan only ever glares. That's expected.

When Snow Queen declares _her son_ Roan would fight Lexa, Bellamy has questions.

Not only did it take him this long to find out that Roan is indeed an important figure, but then he's also the Ice Nation _prince_. Clarke could've maybe mentioned that at least once, in passing, right? That seems like something you'd tell your friends. That the Ice Nation guy who kidnapped you, but not really, and is also not really with Ice Nation, is the Ice Nation's prince? Clarke, please.

Why does Lexa keep a semi friendly enemy prince around for errands, and why didn't anyone tell Bellamy?

He keeps nudging Clarke to explain things to him, but Clarke keeps ignoring him successfully. She's got experience in that.

Murphy's role confuses him even more now, because who is _Murphy_ to have _Prince Roan_  as his bodyguard, what is this mess? Why is he free? Is this another one of Lexa's special arrangements? Talking to grounders takes years off Bellamy's life, nothing ever comes of it, and he can't have that much time left to screw around with. Come on.

But—Bellamy learns that Murphy's hands tremble behind his back when Nia speaks, his jaw tense, eyes cold. He's scary like that, like when Bellamy first saw him, all edge and bite, and Bellamy can't guess why. They're... family? Maybe? Who knows how that works. But Murphy looks ready to fight Nia himself when she declares it'd be Roan.

There's no reason to worry if Murphy believes in Roan's ability, but maybe he doesn't, but if he didn't, then why would he follow him?

Someone's got to explain things, but nobody will. Bellamy is left to solve the mystery himself... or die trying.

He should not say that out loud.

 

***

 

Things are chaotic after the challenge, and nobody has time for him. Clarke's... probably running around scheming and stuff, Lexa apparently wants to talk about death, and Roan didn't seem like he'd appreciate Bellamy tagging along. Not that he'd wanted to. So Bellamy's walking around the market place on his own, looking at the carts of vendors and food and items, but... this is not why he's here.

Somewhere on his right, he catches a glimpse of flowing blonde hair. How many blonde grounders can there be?

He tries to catch up to who probably is Clarke, but there are too many people, and Clarke—seems to know her way around here. Which. Yeah. Sure she does. Good for her.

He doesn't know where he's going, but eh, how bad can it be?

The mass of people only gets bigger, and soon he finds himself just following the flow, all going somewhere with purpose. He gets pushed and pulled and he already misses the tower.

Then, there seems to be a clearing, and—ugh.

Surrounded by spectators there's Roan, training for his fight. The whole place looks like an arena, and there's even a stage, with those terrible ambassador chairs and silly flags.

Would Lexa allow him to get up there, too, if he just asked—often enough?

Bellamy keeps his eyes open for Clarke, looking around the crowd, but she's nowhere in sight.

He does find someone else, though.

Murphy's standing next to the stage, somewhat hidden in its shadow. His eyes are locked onto Roan's every move as he swings his sword with frightening precision.

Let's disturb him. What can go wrong?

Bellamy makes his way through the people and comes up behind Murphy, which, well, is not exactly intentional, but—he takes the chance. Murphy's so focused on Roan he doesn't spare anyone else a glance, so... Patting him on the shoulder is moving too fast, right? He seems like a slow burn type of person. But.

Bellamy's hand barely touches fabric—

His back and head collide with metal, air pressed from his lungs, pressure to his throat. Doesn't hurt as much as the fall on the ground did.

The surprised yelp out of his mouth hurts his pride, though. Not that anyone cares.

Murphy's staring at him, wide-eyed, like he's surprised. No, friend, Bellamy is. The guy slammed against a—metal... structure. Hey there.

They're so close, Bellamy can feel Murphy's breath on his face, and. Well. There's that warm feeling somewhere... everywhere in his body. Worth it? Mostly. He'd do it again.

Murphy's gaze flickers to Bellamy's lips, so Bellamy does the same. He doesn't mean to, but it's hard to resist—looking at them, right in front of his. Bellamy wets his absently. Would stealing a kiss be worth dying right here and now? It's a serious question.

When Bellamy raises his eyes, Murphy's don't meet his yet.

The signs are there—not that Bellamy knows anything about signs, but, they're probably there at this point, right—and he almost goes for it, but he thinks of Octavia, and maybe he can't die just yet. He'd have to at least tell her beforehand.

He swallows, hard, and Murphy takes the pressure off his arm.

"Uh, sorry," Bellamy removes his iron grip on Murphy's jacket when Murphy takes a step back. Unnecessarily.

"Do you do that to everyone?" Bellamy's voice comes out a little hoarse.

Murphy's sharp eyes wander over Bellamy before he grins bashfully. "Not everyone."

They turn towards Roan, awkwardly shifting next to each other until their shoulders almost touch. This... is embarrassing. But worth it. It's worth it.

"... Here to watch the winner?"

Murphy grins at him, either feeling smug or trying to tease. Bellamy will do a lot, and might sink low, but he's not siding with Roan just yet.

"No, I just—"

"You think Lexa will win?"

Murphy regards him with an unreadable expression. Maybe this is not the topic to be an ass about on principle.

"Well, I've never seen Lexa fight—"

"So Roan. Solid choice."

Now Murphy looks smug, his pretty lips curled in an unfairly good-looking smirk. It really, really suits him. He should keep it as long as possible, so Bellamy can look at it.

Why _is_ Bellamy still here, though? He discarded his plans the night he entered Polis without permission, and hasn't quite managed a proper one since. Why is he here? Why is Clarke here? For Arkadia.

Arkadia better appreciate his sacrifice if Ice Nation takes over and he never makes it back. It's for his people.

Ah, right. There was something else.

"If Roan is the prince of the Ice Nation, you are...?"

Murphy doesn't answer by himself, but that doesn't have to mean anything. He's been willing to talk, a bit, so far. A little more prodding should still be within safe levels.

"You said he was your b—"

"Brother."

"Oh."

They do look similar, so Bellamy could've guesses, and he _did_ , but he had to know for sure.

Murphy faces him, and Bellamy can see lifetimes and worlds and the truth in his eyes.

"We're brothers. He looks after me."

There's a part of Bellamy that reacts to Roan being a _brother_ , a big brother looking after a younger sibling.

That part can shut the hell up.

 

***

 

Bellamy watches the fight with Murphy and Clarke on either side. He expected them to have opposite reactions to what happens, but—well, Clarke clearly roots for Lexa, but Murphy looks conflicted now that it's happening. He must have a bond with Lexa, too.

Admittedly, Bellamy prefers her, but not by much. Talking to Murphy has changed his opinion of Buff Grounder Prince, even if he'd never say it. Under torture maybe.

Murphy is incredibly expressive through his eyes.

He wants Roan to win so Roan survives, but he doesn't look happy at the prospect of Lexa dying. Only looking at Nia, who's watching from her seat on the stage, he all but radiates hate.

When Roan is on his back, and Nia yells at Roan, Bellamy begins to understand. He considers restraining Murphy, because Murphy almost can't do it himself, teeth grinding together, hand clutching a knife. He ends up standing by. It's not his fight, and not his brother, or friend, or culture.

Thoughts of Octavia and Clarke and the delinquents are hard to bear, watching Murphy, desperate, eyes frantically darting from Roan to Lexa to the spear and back. It's painful.

But not his fight.

The spear pierces Nia's chest, and Lexa's voice and the cheers and Murphy's heartbeat hangs over them as Roan is pronounced King.

Bellamy didn't know anyone could smile that bright, emitting warmth and joy so genuine and strong it makes you feel with them, despite all odds.

He'd be nice to Roan and Lexa every minute of every day if that gets Murphy to smile like that again.

 

***

 

Bellamy has no idea how he came to celebrate anything that has to do with an Ice Nation prince, or king, but here he is. Murphy's sitting next to him at the table, so complaining isn't in his best interest right now.

They were served a drink that tastes almost as bad as Monty's moonshine and probably has similarly bad effects. As long as he doesn't try to strip again, like when— Well, he'll take it.

Wouldn't mind it if Murphy did.

They've been comparing terrible childhood stories for way too long, and there's no end in sight. Who knew there'd be a place that's similarly inhumane as the Ark, just in all different aspects. Murphy shakes his head in disbelief a lot.

"I'd choose Azgeda, and I _hate_  Azgeda."

Murphy tells stories about chasing Clarke—she could've mentioned there was someone with Roan, just saying—and living in banishment and following Roan into it. Getting them robbed on Murphy's watch once and never again, stealing double the amount back, hunting for bounty. Relying on Lexa and working for her, having known her since childhood. Getting trapped in a partly caved in underground complex because Murphy was searching for books, only making it out after three days, and how they didn't step back underground for weeks. And Murphy can't even read that well.

His eyes sparkle when it's an especially fun memory. A lot of the time, Roan suffers in them, which Bellamy appreciates too.

"Yeah, well, I didn't _know_ he was a _decent_  Ice Nation person, I mean—anyone would feel threatened by damn Hercules."

"Hercules?" Murphy fixes him with a stare, eyes narrowed.

Bellamy watches him shuffle his feet before he clarifies.

"I don't—know who..."

"Oh. Oh, right, no, forget it—"

"Tell me."

Murphy's eyes are bright and curious and he looks almost embarrassed. _Oh man_ , that's cute. Bellamy would tell him every single myth and fairy tale and bedtime story he knows, as long as he's willing to listen.

He's nice when he talks, too. There's something raspy in his voice, and he drawls and screws with intonation when he pleases. He's—genuinely funny. Bellamy laughs about a murderstory, and doesn't protest the string of insults hurled at Clarke. Damn that guy.

"He's not my real brother. My parents, they- weren't from Azgeda. They died— ...under Nia's rule, and I tried to pay her back. Honestly, she would've killed me. Roan didn't." Murphy's voice is steady, but his shoulders are hunched and hands twisted together. His frame looks smaller this way, almost delicate. "So, I'm his _property_ , but he's never treated me that way. Not once. ... Guess you kinda bond over missing, shitty parents."

Murphy is young and damaged and deserved a better childhood; Bellamy knows a lot like him. Kids he considers his family. Blood relations might not be everything. Experiences like these make you siblings, too.

So, maybe... possibly, under certain circumstances—Roan might not be too bad. Not all the time. Supposedly.

Maybe Bellamy doesn't _need_ to hold onto his grudge for getting stabbed in the leg that one time. That could happen to anyone, for any given reason. Not to mention that it was basically a nice gesture, given the context. It was better than death. Roan didn't deliver Clarke to Ice Nation, either, but Lexa. Which is, eh— he doesn't trust Lexa either, but he trusts Ice Nation less, so that turned out to be also kind of nice. Roan might be a kind of nice guy sometimes.

Bellamy would still shoot him though.

Not in the chest, or stomach, but possibly the leg. Or an arm. His main arm. It depends.

"You know, I have a younger sister, and I'd do anything to protect her. So... I guess I can relate to that. In him. He can't... be all that bad, I guess."

Murphy breaks into a wide smile, eyes warm—if that's what it takes, Bellamy can wreck his brain and pride more often—but then grins mischievously.

"Nah, he's the worst. Listen, he leaves me on my own when he feels like it, barges back in at inappropriate times and then bosses me around, what is that—when the guy is a mess on his own! He gets his armor damaged and walks around bare-chested like that's the obvious thing to do about it. Who does that? He can't even take care of his own _hair_ , did you look at him? I'm serious, did you look at him properly—" and he goes on, shaking in laughter, beautiful and out of this world.

Not even Roan himself can dampen the mood. "Of course you would befriend _this_  guy."

He sits opposite them, and Bellamy still has to will his body to relax. It's fine, this is a friendly gathering, they're all somewhat good guys—except, is he maybe sitting too close to the little brother? It didn't seem that close before, but they must've shifted, and now it's closer than before, and— Murphy throws him a glance before hissing at Roan in Trigedasleng, but Roan is wholly unimpressed.

"Hurry up and get to bed already." He's gone with a long glance at Murphy, who splutters and hisses after him and then avoids looking at Bellamy. Maybe that's an Ice Brothers thing.

They sit for a while longer, but it's getting late, Murphy is fidgety, and finally Bellamy gets up to walk Murphy back to his room. Or rather, follow Murphy back and then hope to find his own room, too. It'll be fine. He's not worried.

He is—kind of sad, though, to be honest. The King needs to return to his kingdom, and Murphy won't let him go back alone. They leave in the morning, so... Bellamy walks extra slowly.

At Murphy's door, Bellamy is fidgety, too. He doesn't know what he was just saying.

Murphy's stormy eyes are captivating, glinting in that—damn candle light.

"Hey, uh... would you- you could, come in for a while and—tell me the rest of that... the- you know—"

"Oh yeah, yeah- sure, I can tell you about that—the, you know."

Okay, fine, he'll go for the kiss this time. This is embarrassing.

Bellamy doesn't know anything about Ice Nation's current political situation, but—there surely could be some use for a Sky Crew ambassador, right? Someone needs to keep an eye on Roan, who knows what kind of king he will be, and—surely their clans could come to a better understanding if someone went to learn what _Azgeda_ is actually like, right?

Lexa will surely understand. Bellamy will give her another hour with Clarke, and then she'll be happy, and he'll mention Murphy, and surely she'll understand. That relenting makes more sense than listening to him go on about it for the next two weeks.

And then he'll go for all the kisses, and help pester Roan, and have some great days.

It's a good idea.

**Author's Note:**

> when the sneak peak image of murphy standing next to roan was released, i wanted roan to take murphy with him and feed and train him for 0.2 seconds. imagine! properly dressed, fed, not defenseless murphy! the outrage!! everyone else already violated their supervisory duties, i cant trust them with anything, how bad can azgeda be ,
> 
> previously titled: "azgeda fuckign sucks." theyre not even in azgeda
> 
> this is my murphamy debut! and my proper fic debut! comedy debut! i dont have a beta!! im not a native speaker!! i barely made it on time!!! pls handle with care!!! sigh i just- i just want murphy to be somewhat ok
> 
> tumblr [here](http://jnathans.tumblr.com/), twitter- maybe later


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